


spilt water

by manteia



Category: Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi | Spirited Away
Genre: 5+1 Things, Character Study, Other, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-18 21:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manteia/pseuds/manteia
Summary: standing on the threshold of a house painted the color of daffodils - I realize with astounding levity that I do know my name. I have, however,not found it yet.覆水盆に帰らず。• fukusui bon ni kaerazu • spilt water will not return to the tray[ or the five times Haku speaks, and the one time he is heard ]





	spilt water

 

  1. **it was never about you kohaku**



“Thank you.”

Kamaji’s head only turns a fraction, but I know fully well that he is looking at me. He has a grain of rice stuck to his mustache, his chopsticks holding a bite of salted mackerel, poised a distance from his mouth. His skin is waxy and pale in a strange malnutritioned transparency that I have not ever noticed before. This is how he is, when the fires are not roaring and the steam not curling vehemently near him - and I suppose that’s how  _ I’ve  _ always been, never seeing. Not really, no. 

I stand with my back to the drawers and I look at him and only him, but I hear the shuffle of kompeitō being tossed to the soot sprites, I hear them squeak and murmur, the faint jingling of the candy the shape of stars. Rin visibly stiffened before when I spoke out of the blue but now she is snorting, she did not see me coming after all and I do get a childish sort of delight out of this. She is poised down the platform, tossing the pastel candy askew among the bumbling sprites.   
_ “Thank you _ , he says! Ha!” 

Rin snorts again and then, even the sprites laugh and squeal excitedly. My mouth thins into a terse line at this, but I don't comment and neither does Kamaji. He is only shrugging lightly, with all his eight arms lifting. He shoves the bite into his mouth and swallows quickly. 

“You see, Master Haku...I hope you do not take offense but we...we did not do it for you.”

Rin is standing up and dusting at her clothes and the sprites have fallen gravely quiet. I look away, at the open doors which lead to the stairs and the shadows are small and weak against the thin dregs of light. Truth be told, the boiler room in daylight looks distorted and broken. You can see the fine crumbly rust sticking to the pipes and the jaws of the boiler are shut tight. The fire slumbers and Kamaji’s all eight arms are limp and resting, folded neatly at his side. Daylight comes and the boiler room grows cold. 

“I see.” I say neutrally, even if the blockage in my throat refuses to dissipate. Rin is still glaring at me and she speaks finally, solemn and grave like a final sentence and it tears right through me.

“We did it for Sen.”

I don’t understand why it bothers me so much. I do not know. I will not know. So I shift my weight on my other feet and swallow thickly. I know this is the least I can do.

“Chihiro.”

Kamaji tilts his head, the chopstick hovering near his mouth again and Rin squints at me, her hip cocked with a straw basket balanced on her wrist. Her expression is vehement as always but softened and raw suddenly as if I’ve caressed her cheek or maybe delivered a swift blow. 

“What did you say?”

I wonder why this is so hard. It is just the name of a little girl who came barrelling in the world of the nameless spirits. Just a name. Or is it?  _ Or is it Kohaku? _

“Her real name. It’s Chihiro.” 

With that I turn on my heels and through the sliding partition because the tension in the air is sudden and strained like a rope and I  _ know  _ Rin is gaping at me - sapped out of all will of biting out something caustic - and Kamaji is staring between the wooden board planks, his breakfast abandoned. The sprites chitters are distressed, rather than the usual bustling excited. 

I understand. This is one thing I do understand.    


  
  
➷

 

  1. **it was never just her name**



 

I have no place here now, yet I persist and Yubaaba does not comment. The sprites look at me with pity and awe : I have my name do I not, why must I stay? Not yet, no she does not ask me if I will leave. Nights, I carry out my duties as  _ Master Haku _ and stand by the rail, watching steam curl from the baths and gilded fans flutter. Evenings, and I stand by the bridge under which the train whistles and screeches, and the wood of the bridge is cool and moist to touch. Othertimes, Yububa talks and I stand by.

_ Once _ , Yubaaba says spreading her arms wide and smiling full-toothed and rings glinting,  _ wraiths and sprites there was a girl...  _ I never stay to hear the end of it, pushing through whom I must and through the backdoor of the boiler room, sitting at the stairs instead, picking at my robe. It’s silly but I have my memories that I do not wish to corrupt which say something like this... _ there was a girl _ , yes, the girl the size of a small plum plant, who dropped a worn pink shoe into the waters of my home. 

It may have been the prime of summertime, somewhere suspended in muggy August. There was a tall steel and brick base glaring at me from a distance as humans, slowly but surely populated this area. I remember how she sat by the bank, blubbered something useless and reedy. She had round peachy cheeks and a high voice and hair as brown as finely harrowed dirt. She was just a child, and a curious one at that. She was playing and splashing her hands in the shallow waters of the near back, shakes her foot enthusiastically and her shoe comes loose. She doesn't know until it's gone, the waters carry it afar. 

And that is what water does, it is a fluid body, it does not halt for anyone or anything.

She is crying now, her eyes screwing shut and tiny chest heaving, smacking the surface of the water with the flat of her small palms, confused and scared and irritated. I feel amused at best. That is when she decides and I shift uneasily as her eyes harden and tears stun and she wades into the premises of my river, that is when she reaches out and wants  _ more  _ but is swallowed instead.

She tries to breathe in water, the foolish girl, she flaps her small limbs like a dragonfly. Her words and screams reduce into bubbles of useless air and her body fails her. I can finally see her, a black blob that beats of life like a butterfly at a distance as stand by, curled by a green soda bottle thrown into my river the other day. I watch. I can hear her distressed mother’s call. The girl is not dead, but she is cold and water is pouring into her mouth, unrepentant and malevolent. Water is a fluid body, it waits for no one and carves through all.

I should not interfere, I really should not but I do - I had known full and well that this would only result in something I cannot control, the path of us and humans do not cross so directly so that destiny changes its course and I had changed hers - yet why did I? Why did I? I nudged her small, frail body up and felt small hands curl around my horns.

“Who are you?” I ask, but she just planted her face between my horns. 

I took off and abandoned her near shallow waters where a crying mother stood, open and vulnerable. It almost felt like I did something good as she was swooped out and kissed and embraced and cradled. 

She changed my destiny, afterward, why this is a surprise to me is something I don't understand.

Does she know of how spirits who forget her name after a fortnight, will never forget  _ her _ ? Does she know that Yubaba often sighs in memory of her? Does she know how the sprites whisper of the little human girl who came and swirled a storm into our world, separated by a river that cannot be crossed without a price?

 

➷

 

  1. **it was you, but a one I did not know**



I have acquaintances that know of the storm that shook the spirit world in the form of a little girl. They are always, clattering, curious, eager. To know of my connection to the little magician, and to know of how they can see her in flesh and form. It displeases me greatly, even though I have no right to, but I as always know how never let an opportunity go to waste.

“Take me offshore.” I speak lightly to the wind and the river spirit whom I address turns the wind balmy, sour, salty and displeased. The night twinkles and the moon goddess frowns upon me.

_ “Kohakunushi, what a large favor you ask…”  _ She rasps, “ _ Give me a reason why I should comply?” _

“To see her. Sen.” 

She panics, as I thought she would, gusts of sour wind whistle through my robes, stick my hair to my forehead. I am the only one who ever speaks of her in this world, and for that, the spirits are afraid of me, they are in awe of me.

“ _ V-Very well.”  _

A sturdy boat of tweed and fibers and red sashes appear from the thick oily waters. Dry to touch, firm to board, I stand on the edge and will her to whisk me away to the towers that crumble with hollow tunnels unabandoned by humans a long, long time ago.

My teal sash and white clothes, eyes that do not look human, attract fair attention from the people wearing trousers and flowy skirts walking, cycling, driving in cars by the street. So I stand against the hill and see that the valley is lit by neon lights instead of stars. Artificial and skimming, hurting my eyes. Tall buildings of cement and glass, paints and signs of ramen and women posing with dainty tubes of cream on big boards. So I walk on, to a little house which I know by the wind and stars to be hers.

It is tall, sturdy. I see lights on the side of a flower bed, a step of cement leading to a window partially covered with a purple curtain. 

The panic I feel is unbearable when I hoist myself up by my palms, a clear window reflecting her laughing, clinking chopsticks against ceramic with fluffy grains of rice. How long has it been? She looks like a young woman now, clear eyes, hair shortened with clean bangs. A yellow sundress. The humans who turned to pigs have hair streaked gray, loosened bones.

“Chihiro.” I say, she does not hear, of course she cannot-

Her eye catches mine and a jolt travels through me. When she blinks I am gone.

I hear her saying, “Oka-saan, please wait, I thought I-I saw something-” 

She is opening the door, her sandals crunch the leaves. Yes, she is taller than me now, softened mature body, a higher voice. A beauty to rival kami. A memory that remembers me but fainter, a little spirit with blue hair and hardened eyes. My heart is a stone the waters of time have eroded long ago. 

“ _ Kohaku _ ?” She whispers.

Standing on the threshold of a house painted the color of daffodils - I realize with astounding levity that I do know my name. I have, however, not found it yet.

I hold my breath. All these years, and I cry now.

  
  


➷

  1. **It’s just an old forgotten promise**



I am lying in midst of the tall flowers down the onsen, and I hear Rin before I see her. I wait before she speaks;

“Kohaku.” She’s uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Yes?” I do not look at her. The clouds in the sky seem to resemble large frockling kittens, my lips turn upwards in a smile. 

“Yubaaba wants to show us something.”

My heart clenches in anger but my voice remains cool. “She no longer owns me. You all are more than welcome to obey her, however.”

Rin slams her hand on my chest, snarls in my face and I startle to see tears in her eyes. “It’s about Zeniiba and you are coming with me whether you like it or not.” 

I grab hold of her hand. Her brows twisted in irrtate, curve down to that of pure grief. Tears drip from her cheeks and I am reminded of a summer day long before, when a girl cried and accepted smashed rice balls from my hand surrounded by sunflowers that have long wilted. I wanted to wipe them away so tenderly. 

Rin collapses in my arms, cries. I reach up, do what I didn't long before and wipe her tears slowly. My hands shake, a dreadful feeling rises in me.

“What is it?” I am quiet now.

“Zeniiba.” She whispers, “Is dying.”

  
  
  
  


Up in the tower, in Yubaaba’s abode, her son too, cries. Larger than life, a mop of shaggy hair on his head and Yubaaba sits still. There’s a few of us here, Rin, Kamaji, a sinister spirit named No Face - idly blending in with the shadows.  Zeniiba refused to leave her little cottage in the swamp with the homely pies and large spinning wheels. She dies of poison. 

Yubaaba spins a weary hand, clicking with red, vicious jewels and addresses each of us lowly. I cannot hear her commands anymore, so I stand blank faced, fists itching to smash something.

_ Haku _ , the air before me materializes in cursive characters,  _ It is my gift for you _ .

I start. The room before me is empty, no one. Just me and Zeniiba’s voice. The air sizzles and a mirage seems to appear. I recognize the person in the image, and stumble back, gasping.

It’s her in a flimsy gown, on a lean bed with drips in her arms and her beaming down at something in a bundle. The sound of a human baby cooing fills the room with a harrowing echo. It’s her. Chihiro. Looking at her daughter. 

_ I have blessed the human child and I have vowed to protect her _

I run to the doors, claw at them, bang them. “Let me out!”

_ I forgive everything you have done wrongly in my lifetime.  _

A handsome young man with soft hair, softer eyes, kisses her cheek. 

“Please.” I whisper lowly, in pain.

_ May the heartache in you recedes, brave Nigihayami Kohakunoshi for the child’s name is yours and your name is the child’s. She remembers you more than you gave her credit for.  _

I was wrong. There’s the one named No Face staring at me before it steps into the large fireplace and burns itself to the ground.

  
  


➷

**5\. it is forever now**

I am fated to stay this way. A child spirit, the moment Kohaku river stopped flowing, that moment I stopped ageing. A stream or a spark yet survives, due to which  my soul lingers this earth and is tethered to it. Love is a strange thing, in it’s essence it hurts but it soothes in the most cruelest ways. I am to suffer this pain for eternities and more.

“Please.” I beg the stars, face first in dirt, sobbing, “Please.”

My pleas echo. The gods do not answer. The spirits are laughing.

 

➷

 

**and once upon a time, there was a promise**

 

_ She is hobbling down a well trodden path she knows well. The train tunnels are hollow as always, the gust of wind that calls her back is insistant.  Her cane clacks against the wall, her heart is at ease. She made a promise once.  _

_ There’s a shiny, red hairband straining against her ashen white hair, it shows shards of jitters of light, and the wind spirits quiet down. She is one of them. _

_ Her knees are no longer functioning the way they used to, her back hurts too, her doctor keeps telling her to rest but she was never the one to stay so still. Still, navigating over the large rocks is a feat, she is wheezing when she gets to the other side. _

_ The other side. _

_ The stairs are all cracked now. Creaky and paint paled. Soon the construction companies will find the tunnels and tear them down, she knows the yellowed trucks and large demolishing machines roaring like a menace.  _

_ So she sits down next to an empty restaurant. Looks up in delight.  Evening is soon, the sky darkens and crickets chirp. The first silhouette of spirit hovering three feet off of the asphalt appears. She waves wearily and the spirit startles. _

_ Wafting steam and twinkling bells. Boats arrive in pairs. She smiles a smile with very less teeth. The spirits pass by her, some bow.  _

_ I need to see him. She says to no one in particular and then, moments later a soft hand helps her up.  _

_ This way. _

_ It’s a girl with red hair and red eyes and stripes on her face. She sneaks a look at her, gulping as if in fear. The witch, Yubaaba sent me. _

_ She already knew. Give her my dearest thanks then sweetheart. _

_ A clearing with a small pond comes surrounded by wildgrass. The girl motions forwards. Refusing to walk any further. Thank you, I will take it from her. _

_ The pond is not a pond but a majestic dragon in a deep sleep for more than fifty human years. So that wild grass grew and frogs made home on its shore and water seeped from its scales. _

_ She leans down, dips her hand and touches a wet snout.  _

_ The water steams, shrivels and she closes her eyes. _  
  


_ It’s a spirit with short hair, glassy eyes, white robes, teal sash, with tears in his eyes who is shaking like a leaf. Wildgrass grows around him and he hiccups, _

_ Chihiro? _

_ He collides in her weakened arms, she tightens them firmly around him. He cries and oh he cries.  _

_ You will not be able to leave the spirit world  _

_ She just smiles, holds him closer. I know, Kohaku. I made a promise after all.  _

_ We made a promise.  _

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> ~ haku, for me and in this humble fic, is nonbinary and androgynous.  
> ~ chihiro is eighteen the first time haku sees her, the second time she is in her early thirties, the third and the last - in her late eighties.  
> ~ yes, chihiro's daughter is named after haku.
> 
> spirited away has remained one of my favorite movies of all time. on a rainy day such as this with [arrival of birds & transformation by the cinematic orchestra](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MqoANESQ4cQ) on repeat, i decide to complete this very short & sad, sad WIP. 
> 
> tell me your favorite scene in spirited away! talk about your favorite ghilbi movies in the comments! i love hearing from you~ ᕕ༼✿•̀︿•́༽ᕗ


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